


the worst kind of fool

by 16_starz



Series: lupin's one shots | 2020 [5]
Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Anger, Angst, Depression, Emotional Hurt, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Mental Anguish, No Dialogue, No Plot/Plotless, Non-Graphic Violence, One Shot, Post-Canon, References to Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, What Have I Done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:15:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24715915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/16_starz/pseuds/16_starz
Summary: She always wondered why he never wore t-shirts or shorts in public.—☆—I thought what I sought was seeking me tooReaching around in the darkAll of the while I protest like a childWho doesn't get what they want
Relationships: Maka Albarn & Soul Eater Evans
Series: lupin's one shots | 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1696303
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	the worst kind of fool

**Author's Note:**

> honestly, i think this is a sign.
> 
> anyway, i'm evil, and i make characters sad. i also figured out how to format with HTML text, so take that.

She remembers the day so well.

Well, she can't refer to it as one day. There were _several_ incidents of this kind of behavior from her weapon partner. All the times he willingly got himself hurt, to protect her. But, in his wavelength, it was obvious there was a larger drive than just protection. The hunger for pain coursed within him, and she didn't know why at the time. But now, as Maka stands here at her partner's newfound tombstone, she understands.

She understood later than she should have, though.

The meister sank down to her knees, her hands folded in her lap. Her emerald green eyes flicker over the carved lettering in the tombstone, reading the name of her weapon, her best friend, her roommate, her only anchor in this hellhole of a world: _Soul Eater Evans._

The tears prick in her eyes, and she would curse herself if she had the willpower. But she remains silent, letting the salty liquid drip from her eyes and roll down her face. The morning was too foggy; you could only see a foot in front of you.

Is this how it felt, Soul? To be stuck in your spiral of depression, unable to get out of it, no matter how hard you try? Is this the physical equivalent of what your mental health was?

Maka sifted through her memories of her partner, attempting to find where it all went wrong. Trying to discover the moment when Soul had been experiencing the mental pain of suicidal ideation.

Was it when he had protected her from Stein? The way he hovered over her body, arms on either side of her as she quivered in fear of death; it couldn't be identified as the first step in that direction. There wasn't a motive yet.

Could it be when he got attacked by Crona? He practically threw himself in front of her when he took Ragnarok's blade to his chest. Maka furrowed her eyebrows, contemplating the answer.

She eventually decided yes, this was definitely the first warning.

Her mind kept going back in time—what else can she remember?—to literally _any_ moment she had with Soul. Her mind was racing in the thickness of her own new fog, a certain memory coming out of the dark.

It wasn't possible for Crona's attack to be the first sign that Soul was experiencing suicidal thoughts. Because, if Albarn remembered correctly, her partner actually had a history of self-harm.

It was a Saturday. Or maybe it was Sunday. The day is a little hazy to the meister; her and Soul were supposed to hang out with their group that day. It was supposed to be a whopping ninety degrees, and that worried Maka. She hadn't ever seen Soul wear a singular t-shirt or pair of shorts whenever they went out together. He only ever wore long sleeves and pants, as far as she knew. And even if he did wear a t-shirt, the weapon always had a jacket to cover himself up.

He was getting prepared to change into his clothes and out of his pajamas, when Maka abruptly came in. She was planning to tell him that he should put a little more pep in his step if they didn't want to be late, and she took one look over at him, and stopped mid-sentence.

Soul was only wearing a t-shirt and some basketball shorts, but that wasn't what caught her off-guard. The thing (or, well, _things_ ) that made her stop was that not _one_ inch of Soul's arms and legs that didn't have some sort of scar. The scars were all either slits or burns. They practically covered Soul, as if the scars were claiming him. Maka couldn't take in the sight, so she left his room and shut the door just as quickly as she bursted in.

The poor girl couldn't even bring herself to ask about the scars. Maka was afraid that her partner would push her away, or get mad at her for being so nosy all the time. She was just concerned!

She wanted to make Soul feel better about himself, or at least help him. Alas! Her own paranoia prevented that from happening.

Is this her fault? Could she have done something to help defuse that situation? To make Soul open his damn eyes, and realize that he was _never_ alone? That Maka was standing by his side, willing to assist him with his problems? Why couldn't he just see that he didn't have to commit suicide to solve every burden he secretly carried? It was all puzzling for the meister, and she wanted to scream.

She was going to miss him. So, so much. She's going to miss waking up to him either being obnoxiously loud or to the scent of him cooking breakfast. She's going to miss sitting next to him in class, making smartass comments. She's going to miss hitting Soul over the head with the spine of her hardcover book whenever he was saying or doing something stupid. She's going to miss hearing his laugh, his voice, him playing the piano—

He never got to play for her as often as she would like. The meister figured that Soul would've liked to play for her, too. He was very ornery when it came to him doing things, but still.

She never said goodbye to him for the last time. Maybe, just maybe, Maka could meet him again. She could take her own life, and crush it in her hands, just so she can give Soul a simple 'hello.'

...or maybe, it would be okay. He was still here, in one way or another. She could move on. She could live without the most important part of her life.

Well, that isn't entirely true. Maka couldn't ever live the same without Soul. But he would live on in her memory, in her wavelength. There would always be a part of him with the meister. And just the thought of that put a sad smile on her face.


End file.
